


call it what you want

by wanderlustt



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dimitri is a gentle boi, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fucking, I love Felix and Sylvain, Oral Sex, Romance, Shameless Smut, but he is also a beast so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-20 16:53:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20678729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderlustt/pseuds/wanderlustt
Summary: Ten times Byleth has saved Dimitri; and the one time he returns the favor.





	call it what you want

1.

The first time Dimitri sees Byleth, he thinks her a respectable ally and an even more respectable adversary. He watches her from a distance and tries to avoid looking _lecherous_, as Felix would say, because in truth, he admires her and hopes desperately that he can learn from her.

But there are formalities to follow and courtly traditions to uphold in the name of Faerghus, so he does his best to keep a respectable distance. He does not pursue her after he introduces her to the Blue Lions, nor does he go out of his way to eat with her at the dining hall. From what he can surmise (and it’s not a lot, given that perpetual look of indifference on her face), Byleth most assuredly has her hands full. What with Rhea, Edelguard ascertaining her every step, and Claude constantly courting her between meals, there’s already too much on her plate.

“Good morning. I’ll be your new professor starting today.”

Dimitri _thinks _he feels a flutter in his stomach. It’s a feeling he does not recognize: warm and comforting. He realizes, of course, that it’s not a flutter of fixation, nor is it a flutter that might follow infatuation: it’s a flutter of utter relief.

He smiles, genuinely, and tells her, “We’re happy to have you, professor.”

2.

When a cold renders Dimitri bedridden, he does not want to burden his comrades in the Blue Lions, so he recuses himself to his own bedroom as not to spread his sickness. He loses his muscle and strength quickly; he knows because he cannot wield a spear, even a training spear, the same way without feeling a strain in his neck. 

Mercedes offers to bring him herbs from Manuela, but he refuses her outright. “Thank you, Mercedes,” he tells her through the gap of his bedroom door. “But I’ll be fine.”

So imagine his surprise when Byleth comes to visit him in the thick of night, when the sun has set and the cold wind of fall blows through the open window of his room. He dares not refuse his professor, so he opens the door just a crack and asks her courteously what she might want.

“I thought you might be hungry,” she says, ushering him aside to carry a canister of hot soup to his bedside. “I asked Dedue what might suit your taste, but he says his quest to find your favorite dish has been elusive thus far.”

She’s completely blasé in the face and had he not known better, he would’ve assumed she simply didn’t care. “I loved eating chicken stew when I was a child, so this will do just fine.”

She looks at him hard, as if to ascertain whether or not he is telling the truth but makes no sign to rebuff him. So he thanks her cordially and recuses himself back to bed. “I wouldn’t want to get you sick, professor. I’m afraid I’m rather contagious,” he tells her, but she doesn’t take the hint, instead, taking a seat at his bedside.

It takes him a moment to digest the fact that she has the palm of her hand pressed against his forehead, that first inkling of concern written over her face. Up close, she’s rather pretty, he thinks; her eyes are round and blue, her face delicate, and her lips full and soft.

That look of concern…it’s the first sign of emotion he’s managed to eke out of her so far, and he thinks it might have been just a tad more romantic if he were not lying in bed in his pajamas, nursing a cold like a babe.

3.

“What is it?”

Dimitri catches himself staring at Byleth’s green hair one moment too late. The starkness of her cold voice causes his elbow to roll off the edge of his writing desk. Snickers come from the back of the classroom, snickers that no doubt belong to Felix and Sylvain.

“It’s nothing, professor.”

Some of the students at Garreg Mach have come to speak of her in hushed whispers. _Her father died and nothing about her has changed except her hair. It’s weird. _The same people, of course, offer her their condolences. _Please, professor, let us know how we can help._

But they didn’t see her on the battlefield. They didn’t see the tears escape her. They didn’t see her cry. They didn’t see that senseless pit of despair befall her.

Dimitri recognizes it first because he’s all too familiar with its company: that cystic poison in the mind, that pervasive feeling of perpetual dread, and that mindless brawl between despair and hope that renders one exhausted. A nightmare of ghosts following the living’s steps in their wake. _Kill them, _they say, _kill them all_.

So when Byleth collapses and Dimitri offers to carry her home, it’s not out of obligation or formality. He thinks if he cradles her head just gently enough, if she sits right in the crook of his arm, she can avoid that same fate.

4\. 

Edelguard.

Dimitri blinks and suddenly the creak of necks snapping in his grip is music to his ears.

Byleth tries to stop him with her hands but he swats her away like a pesky fly. He is shameful and appalling in equal measure but there is nothing left for him to hide. _Let her see! _The voices cry. _Let her see what you truly are!_

Does she hate him?

_Of course she hates you_, the voices say. _She hates you. She hates the monster inside you, the monster you’ve hidden from her. She hates that you’ve lied to her, that you’ve hidden your true self beneath a surface of deceit. Yes, she hates you_. _Yes…she hates _you.

Dimitri sends his spear through the air and truly believes the voices are telling the truth.

“There is blood on my hands,” he says so soft that even he has trouble hearing himself. 

And the words he doesn’t say aloud: _It’s too late for me now_.

Dimitri thinks if he lets the voices consume him, the deaths will become easier to swallow. But they don’t. He feels the creak of every one of them, that last breath of air before their life escapes them. It is a finality he knows.

Surely, he thinks, he will meet that same fate one day. 

5.

The trees change color five times before the professor returns.

_She hates you._

_She wants you to die._

_She hates you._

_She's come to kill you._

_You ought to kill her first._

_Hurry, kill her!_

When they meet, she offers him her hand and he swats her away.

_Look at the way she looks at you! Those eyes of hers are filled with dread and disgust! She is revolted by you!_

Dimitri has nothing left inside him but voices of the dead. They are old friends now, familiar and warm, and he relishes in their embrace. They are the only things he knows to be sure. All his friends have gone but the voices will never leave him. In a way, he has come to love them.

Byleth kneels down and tucks her hands in the crook of his shoulders. Her fingertips are soft and warm against his skin, but that restless pulse in his neck is threatening to explode from her touch. He does not meet her gaze, but he can feel her eyes steady on him. 

_She hates you! She thinks of you a monster! Kill her! Kill her now!_

“Come back to me,” she says, and though her voice is soft, it is so warm and inviting it nearly overwhelms him with tears. “Dimitri, please. Come back to me.”

It takes time for him to return.

The process is excruciating and the ghosts inside him have weathered the storm, but their voices are just a bit more muffled now.

_Come back to me._

Byleth’s voice is all he hears now.

6\. 

One day, Annette and Mercedes fish out their old school uniforms from Garreg Mach and decide to slip them on to see if their fit is still true.

Even in the midst of war, there are moments of respite, and this is no different. Sylvain and Ashe play along, though they are both too tall for their slacks, the cloth tugging high over their shins. Ingrid’s uniform is the only one that still fits but Dedue nearly rips the back of his pants apart when he stands up from his seat. They even get Felix to join in, though it requires a good amount of bribery and coercion. 

Dimitri has outgrown his teenage dressings but learns to enjoy the sound of their laughs and jests as they surround their writing desks and tell old stories from the past. 

But when Byleth steps in, fitted into one of Dorothea’s old school uniforms -- the neckline revealing a bit too much of her ample bosom, the skirt riding up the edge of her thick thighs -- Dimitri cannot help but blanche.

“Oh my goodness, you look just like one of us!” Annette squeals. “You could really pass for a student, you know professor?”

Mercedes giggles. “It certainly suits you well.” 

“Does it?” Byleth tries desperately to tug the edge of her skirt over her underwear. “It feels like a bit much for me…”

Sylvain doesn’t bother hiding the utter look of astonishment on his face. “Wow, professor. You sure those legs aren’t insured—”

Ingrid kicks the table so hard the whole leg pops off and sends at least a hundred papers flying up into the air.

Sylvain cries out in pain. “Hey! Who the hell did that?”

Felix rolls his eyes, “Who do you think?"

Dimitri comes forward and cinches his cloak around her; it’s too big for her and it looks like it’s swallowing her whole. “Because of Sylvain,” he mutters under his breath, knowing he had no need to explain himself. “That’s all.”

7.

Dimitri throws a feast honor the dead and to celebrate the end of war.

There are a sea of faces before him, but he sees only one that’s missing.

Byleth, as it turns out, is hiding out in the tower. He wonders if she remembers the promise they made once upon a time but decides not to ask as they meet each other at the top. He treasures their shared silences and is desperate not to ruin the moment with his listless wondering. Under the thick of moonlight, she stands before him an archbishop, and he a king, but for now, they are nothing more than friends.

No, not friends.

Dimitri takes her hands in his. They are scarred and blistered from the ravages of war, but they are warm and familiar in his hold.

“Marry me.”

They have saved him one too many times and he knows this well, so he presses a kiss to her knuckles and waits for her answer.

Byleth smiles and he thinks he might melt.

8\. 

The first time they make love is after the wedding.

The truth is, he has been desperate to touch her since the moment he met her. It should be unlawful the number of times he’s thought of her naked, the number of times he’s stroked himself to the very image of her.

So he is gentle and caressing, almost to the point of being delicate. He doesn’t want to hurt her or break her, so he treats her like a precious stone, cradling her in his arms, pressing kisses across her stomach until he reaches that pulsing peak between her legs. 

“Dimitri,” Byleth breathes, finally, smiling gently at him. “Just let go.”

He obliges and plunges his tongue inside her, tasting her: she is bitter and sweet in equal measure and the taste of her has him so aroused his cock starts throbbing against her thigh.

“Finger me?”

Her question comes out as more of a plea and he slips a finger inside her, feeling her sticky walls tighten and clench around it. He pumps her slowly and carefully, his tongue lapping up the juices that’ve escaped her. One finger, then two, until she’s clenching so tight he thinks she might burst. He lets his tongue rest on the bulge of her clit as she thrusts her hips deep into his face.

It takes every ounce of effort for her to stop herself, for her to look up at him with that glaze in her eye and say: “I want you inside me when I cum.”

It’s disgustingly filthy and delicious and Dimitri can’t help himself. He wants to be buried deep inside her _now_, and when he prods his way to her entrance, the most brilliant pink colors her cheeks. He enters her slowly and her walls clench tightly around his cock, so wet and consuming he could nearly burst.

He goes slowly first, rocking gently in a rhythm as her walls seize around him. “Faster,” she utters, hugging her arms around his shoulders. “_Please_." 

Dimitri lets go and thrusts hard inside, her walls seizing tightly around him. Byleth reaches one single finger to her clit, touching herself gently as he continues thrusting himself inside her. She’s goes tighter and tighter and he feels an itch inside him that’s about to explode.

Her groans are sweet and short, and he feels the pulse of her orgasm send her over the edge as she convulses beneath him.

Her undoing sends a jolt of pleasure through him and he cums inside her, feeling his seed spill deep. _Good god_, she’s so beautiful, he thinks, as he looks at her sprawled beneath him naked. He thinks he might just be the luckiest man in the world.

9.

If war was busy, then it was nothing compared to the business of peacetime.

Dimitri spent sleepless nights with his council to discuss resource allocation, territorial disputes, and military distribution to the pockets of villages in the empire that had been injured as collateral during the imperial rampage.

Byleth had taken her mantle of archbishop, which meant Seteth had her whisked away to Garreg Mach every moon to take care of church affairs. They saw each other infrequently, but he wrote her many letters, perhaps one too many, and always told her how much he longed to see her. In fact, it had become an unspoken tradition for him to wait for her return at the gates so that he could be the first one to embrace her. Before anyone could take her away from him, he’d usher her to their bedroom and make love to her until sunrise.

Byleth smiles tiredly this time, when she catches his gaze between the open gates. Dimitri is careful to cradle her head in the crook of his shoulder when they embrace; and they embrace each other for quite some time. She is fully relaxed in his hold, almost willowing. He presses a kiss to her forehead and takes her to their bedroom, where he tucks her into bed and lets her sleep.

She sleeps quite a lot these days, so much so that Dimitri begins to grow worried. The last time she slept this much, five seasons passed and there was naught left of him but ghosts.

He calls in the local medic, but he has no answers for him. “She needs rest. That much is certain.” It is an answer with no real answer at all, so Dimitri resigns himself to the bedroom and nurses her with afternoon tea and chicken stew, hoping that she’ll return to her normal self soon.

One night, when the castle is quietest, Byleth asks him: “When did you know?”

Dimitri instinctively understands what she speaks of, though the embarrassment burns bright on his face. “The day you came to check up on me when I caught a cold.”

Byleth seems pleased by this, though all she can muster is a hum of appreciation as she digs herself a cozy corner next to his shoulder. He doesn’t tell her it’s when she put her hand to his forehead and doesn’t tell her how he’s been saved by those same hands countless times. “And you?” He asks her, playing with a strand of her hair. “When did you know?”

But Byleth doesn’t answer him. Dimitri leans over, watching her sleep. Her breathing is even and gentle and he can’t help but press a kiss to her face. “Get well soon, my beloved.”

He doesn’t tell her he needs her because he’s afraid she might leave him for good this time. 

10.

Byleth misses her trip to the church this moon, but she says nothing to Dimitri about it except those same two words: _I’m tired_.

Something is wrong, he thinks, something she isn’t telling him. Byleth has started shirking her duties and has been sending word to Seteth via carrier pigeon to take care of her obligations while she’s away. Dimitri is desperate to sneak a look at the letter she’s sending, but the better half of him decides to respect her privacy.

It’s only when Mercedes shows up for a surprise visit that he begins to realize something is _terribly wrong_.

“I was surprised when the professor asked for me,” she tells him, as he escorts her to Byleth’s room. “I hope it isn’t cause for concern.”

Mercedes has always been soft-spoken, but when she leaves Byleth’s room, she betrays little on her face that isn't apprehension. “She’s wants to see you, Dimitri. There’s something she wants to tell you.”

He obliges and enters the room, where he finds his beloved resting on their sleeping bed. 

There are tears streaming down her face and he comes to comfort her, brushing away her tears with the soft pads of his fingertips.

But she stops him, takes his hand, and presses his palm gently against her lower stomach.

Dimitri looks at her and the faintest crease of a smile tugs at his lips.

11.

“Is it too early to tell?”

Byleth laughs. “You don’t want to keep it a surprise?”

He thinks about it for a moment and shakes his head.

She looks at him adoringly, pulling his face gently into her chest. “Boys." 

“Boys?”

She plays with his hair, twirling a single blond lock between her fingers. “They’re twins.”

“Truly?” 

“Truly.” 

Dimitri nearly bursts with joy, though he thinks he would’ve felt the same even if they were girls. Perhaps he is too eager, but he is already thinking of the future. “What shall we name them?”

“I was thinking…Lambert,” Byleth says softly. “After your father.”

“Lambert.” Dimitri finds that the name sticks, as if it had always been their son’s name all along. “Lambert…and Jeralt.”

She stops short, her fingers tangled in his hair, and he looks up to see her eyes have gone glossy. “Have I said something wrong?”

Byleth shakes her head and cups his face, pressing the gentlest kiss onto his forehead. “No.” She hugs him tightly to her chest and she feels so warm against his cheek he could melt. “It’s perfect.”

(12.

On Mercedes’ request, the students of the Blue Lions have all gathered on short notice, not without a bit of grumbling. Dedue and Annette are the first to arrive, followed by Felix and Sylvain, and Ingrid and Ashe.

Dimitri and Byleth meet them in the courtyard of the castle, where they’ve gathered around a pit of fire to watch the night sky.

“So?” Felix snarks, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “Something _that _important you had us all ride over on two-day’s notice?”

When they tell them the news, it’s silent.

Sylvain is the first to speak up, “Holy crap, I’m going to be an uncle!”

“That’s _not _how that works,” Felix snaps.

Annette, Ingrid, and (_shockingly_) Dedue are bawling, Sylvain and Felix are bickering over titles, formalities, and who gets to train baby Lambert and Jeralt (Dimitri thinks he hears them come to an agreement that they’ll each take one twin and have them duke it out at the end of the year to see who will rise to the occasion), and Ashe has already started apologizing for not bringing over a housewarming gift for the baby. It’s a ruckus, a total mess, and Dimitri wouldn’t have it any other way. 

_It’s perfect_, he thinks, and hears Byleth’s voice, gentle and caressing inside his head. He looks at her, this woman he loves, _his beloved_, and knows it to be true: it’s perfect.)

**Author's Note:**

> Dimitri deserves the world and I won't accept otherwise. :')


End file.
